


Not Actually Scottish

by AllThoseOtherWorlds



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Accents, Gallifrey, Gallifreyan, Gen, Languages, Tardis translation circuit, The Doctor doesn't really have a Scottish accent, Though he could if he wanted to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThoseOtherWorlds/pseuds/AllThoseOtherWorlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with some aliens who don't sound British, Clara has some questions for the Doctor about his accent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Actually Scottish

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Doctor Who. I do not make money from this.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated!

“Doctor?” Clara asked, pulling off her coat and setting it aside, “Why do you sound Scottish?”

“Why do I sound Scottish?” he repeated, turning to look at her. “You’re just asking me that now? Why now?”

“Well, it just occurred to me now, after visiting those Web-knees people-”

“- _Webneesians_ -”

“Yeah, them. Well, most everyone we meet sounds British but _they_ didn’t, and it got me thinking.”

“Well, the Tardis usually translates everything to an accent you’re familiar with,” The Doctor said. “But the Webneesian language is too different - there was no way to translate it _and_ make it sound British _and_ preserve tone of voice without a noticeable lag. You’d have heard them five seconds after they spoke, like a badly-timed television. Instead, the Tardis did the translating and the tone of voice and just approximated an accent.”

Clara nodded, absorbing this information. “Okay,” she said, “But why do you sound Scottish now? You weren’t Scottish before.”

“Well, I’m not Scottish _now,_ either,” the Doctor said, leaning against the Tardis console. “I just sound that way.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, obviously you’re not _really_ Scottish, Doctor,”

“Been there though,” he said. “Nice place, bit cloudy. Good people.” He looked almost nostalgic for a moment before pulling himself out of it. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant. Of course I’m not _really_ Scottish, you know that. I’m not using a Scottish accent right now, either, though.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Doctor? Because that definitely sounds Scottish.”

“Of course it does,” he said, and she could have sworn he was laughing at her. “I can hear the Tardis layering it on top of what I’m saying, and let me tell you _that_ took some getting used to when I first started all this. Of course, I _can_ do a Scottish accent.” He cleared his throat. “There, I’m doing one now. The Tardis isn’t even micromanaging, so I must be doing it right. Does it sound any different?”

She shook her head. “Sounded Scottish the whole time, to me,” she said. “I’m still not sure you’re not having me on. What are you speaking in, if it’s not a Scottish accent?”

The Doctor looked affronted. “Well, of course I’m not having you on! I’ll have you know I can do at least ten different Earth accents, though I’m not sure why I bother since the Tardis translates them all anyway. I always meant to do something about that, but messing with the translation circuit is a tricky-”

“Doctor,” Clara said, pulling him back on topic. “How do you sound if not Scottish? Are you even speaking English?”

“I sound Gallifreyan, obviously,” the Doctor said. “Regeneration wouldn’t give me a different Earth accent, but it does occasionally change Gallifreyan accents, and then the Tardis approximates it to whatever Earth accent is closest because she thinks she’s being clever.” He patted the Tardis console next to him fondly.

“Are you not speaking English, then?” Clara asked.

“Well, sometimes I do,” The Doctor said, “I am now, at any rate, but sometimes I don’t, and when I do I don’t always bother with an Earth accent. I could, of course, but-”

He broke off, looking away for a moment, and that alone gave Clara what she needed to fill in the blank.

“Does it remind you of your people?” She asked. “Is that what you speak in when not English?”

He looked back at her and nodded. “It’s silly,” he said. “Time Lords never really spoke other languages, not when they could have translation circuits. And sometimes I still speak Gallifreyan, because it’s a beautiful language, probably one of the best things that came out of Gallifrey. But even when I’m not, even when I’m speaking English, I’m still loathe to-” he broke off again, swallowed, kept talking, “A Gallifreyan accent in English - it’s ridiculous, it’s pointless, it’s probably blasphemy, in some circles. And I _like_ Earth, I _like_ humans and your languages and your accents. But I’m not human, and I don’t want to be, and it’s not because I think I’m better or more advanced or whatever, it’s not.” He sighed. “I’m not the last anymore. Gallifrey is out there somewhere, with its culture and its language and its sky and its many, _many_ flaws. It’s out there, and I don’t- I don’t have to preserve the language anymore, the culture, but I want to. Gallifrey was broken, _is_ broken, in so many ways, and I left and I ran and I don’t regret it, but it’s still _mine_. I still want to keep some small part of it with me.”

Clara had been silent throughout this speech, but now the Doctor had stopped and was looking away, rubbing the Tardis console with his thumb and looking awkward. She guessed she’d accidentally hit a nerve with this language thing - he never said this much about his own people. She almost regretted asking, but it’s not like she’d forced him to answer. Maybe it was good for him to talk.

“What does it sound like?” she asked. “Your language, what does it sound like?”

The Doctor didn’t respond, just messing with the Tardis controls, and she was afraid for a moment that she was wrong, that she’d pushed too far and he was going to shut down and maybe this was a bad idea and-

And he said something in a language that was definitely not English. It was fluid and lilting and somehow stiff at the same time, and she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the words. They felt almost like there was an echo, even though they were just standing in the Tardis control room and it had never echoed before. Even without context, she thought she would have known this was Gallifreyan - it _sounded_ like what she knew of the Time Lords, full of complexity and almost mind-bending, but also very structured and ordered.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, when he stopped speaking. “What did that mean?”

“It was a poem,” he said, and his accent was different now, still filled with the contradictory lilt and structure of his native tongue. “Mostly imagery, descriptions of Gallifrey and its sky and mountains.”

He fiddled with the Tardis controls for a few seconds, and when he next spoke his accent was Scottish again.

“It was designed to be heard by telepaths, so I’m afraid you might have a slight headache, although I did try to keep the projecting to a minimum.”

“Is that what the echoing was?” Clara asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m not surprised you could pick up on it, though I would be if you’d gotten any of the actual signal.”

“It sounded beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

He smiled, softly. “No, Clara,” he said. “Thank _you_.” He turned to the Tardis console next to him and patted it. “And thank you too, dear,”

“What are you thanking her for?” Clara asked, curious.

“Oh, nothing in particular” the Doctor said. “Translating things, getting us places, not letting us get lost - It’s just generally a good idea to stay on her good side.”

Clara laughed. “I’m sensing a story here, Doctor.”

“It’s nothing, really,” he said. “She was just trying to keep me from getting in trouble, that’s all.”

“Isn’t she always?”

“Well, most of the time,” the Doctor said. “But that’s another story. Where to now?”

“I did have one adventure already today,” Clara said. “I should go home now.”

The Doctor started toward the navigation controls.

“But why not? One more trip, Doctor, but let’s make it somewhere peaceful, shall we? I have papers to grade tonight.”

He clapped his hands. “Peaceful it is, then.”

He did whatever it was he did when he steered the Tardis, and they were off.


End file.
